


i said i'd never miss you but now you'll never know

by arbhorwitch



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, eyy spoilers for the movie, this was just an excuse to be sad because this movie ruined my life lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbhorwitch/pseuds/arbhorwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dust settles. Hiro does not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i said i'd never miss you but now you'll never know

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is basically assuming au after the movie because i haven't read hiro's journal yet and therefore am ignoring anything that happens in that 
> 
> i also took the creative liberty and assumed that cass knows about big hero 6 (okay c'mon cass would totally figure it out eventually anyway). slight warning for depictions of burns though it's not really graphic??
> 
> i love this movie so much but simultaneously hate it lmao this is fine
> 
> (title credit to fourth of july by fall out boy!!)

It’s the little things.

Cass notices them after the dust settles and Hiro promises to hang the suit up for a bit, just for a bit, because he has _so much_ to catch up on and she can’t stomach the thought of the fifty thousand things that can go wrong when being a _superhero_. She kisses him on his cheek twice a day, never lets him leave without a hug, and makes sure his lunch is always packed with extra care and extra shortcake, just to be sure. He hugs a little tighter now, looks a bit older, the curve of grief clinging to his shoulders not as heavy as it was the few months After; but it’s there, still, in the way he’s too afraid to turn on the oven, won’t go near any of the candles that are lit during some of the more violent storms. He’s afraid, Cass realizes, sees it over and over but she doesn’t know how to help without bringing up therapy—and she vowed long, long ago that therapy was never an option unless her boys were a danger to themselves, unless they came to her and said _I think I need help and I don’t know where to go_.

This isn’t one of those times, but even a boy genius deserves the ability to sleep without choking on his own screams.

-

It’s not nearly as bad as it used to be; all she has to do now is place a hand on his forehead and Hiro will recognize her immediately, even as sleep-dazed-deprived that he is, and she’ll smile sadly and hold him until he stops shaking and can breathe through the smoke in his lungs.

There are shadows under his eyes, but he grins with all of his heart and laughs like Tadashi is only a room away. It’s a startling contradiction, one that has her baking more cupcakes than strictly necessary, sprinkled with lots of chocolate flakes and strawberries because there’s a better chance he’ll eat if the promise of dessert follows. Cass isn’t Tadashi—she never mastered how to coax her nephew into eating when he’s manic and focused, never learned how to get him to sleep instead of spending hours upon hours buried in oil and machinery and computer pieces she’ll never fully understand. The first few months are the hardest, and the months that follow Callaghan’s fall are a bit easier, but Hiro is still Hiro and she isn’t sure if he’s _happy_.

She worries, and she frets, and she cooks dinner for six and leaves tons of space open in the living room for their study sessions, even helps GoGo with some of the more detailed aspects of her Greek history paper.

It’s nice.

-

It’s a bright Tuesday afternoon when she gets a call from a frantic Wasabi, and it takes Cass thirty seconds to convince him to breathe and calm down and tell her what’s happened.

“It’s Hiro,” he finally manages, desperate and _sorry_. “He’s—can you come to the hospital, please—“

She won’t panic. Cass has adapted, is trying to adapt still, and it’s a slight relief when GoGo’s voice comes over the phone and reassures, “Hiro’s _fine_ , there was a minor accident, but they said he’ll recover.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” she says. Chewing her bottom lip and already untying her apron, she adds, “And we’re going to be discussing this _in full_. All of you.”

There’s no argument—she can be stern when she needs to be, thank you very much—and ten minutes later she finds herself staring at the same white walls that have been witness to so much calamity. She hates it, hates the sterile scent every time she so much as breathes, hates that her family has rolled in but never had the chance to come out. Honey is the first to greet her, pale and withdrawn, strap of her chemical purse nearly torn in half; barely hanging on, Cass notes, and she makes a list of compromises they’ll be making very, very soon.

“How is he?” she asks, wetting her lips. Her hands grip her own purse so tight, her knuckles are like ghosts. “Just—no details about whatever you guys were doing, not yet, I just need to know if he’s okay.”

Honey nods and grabs Cass’s free hand, holds it steady and sure, as she explains, “He’s fine, perfectly fine, only a few burns on his legs and a concussion. The doctors are gonna keep him overnight…”

“Right, okay, that’s… Can I see him? I’m going to see him. Where is he?”

GoGo comes to Honey’s aid, and Cass realizes there’s no cracking of bubblegum in the air. She doesn’t panic.

“The doctor said he’ll be out in a few minutes,” she assures. “He’s checking Hiro over to make sure.”

Good, then, Hiro will be fine and this was nothing more than a false alarm, but not really because her nephew— _only_ nephew now, she thinks sadly—is laying in a hospital bed somewhere, probably in pain and alone and that’s not _right_. With a deep breath, she steels herself and says, “Waiting room. Now.”

-

“A bank robbery,” Cass repeats. The four of them have the decency to look properly ashamed. “You—it’s a _school_ day! What on earth were you doing stopping a _bank robbery_?”

She knows, deep down, that this isn’t the first time. That they’ve been sneaking around behind her back, that Hiro is desperately seeking out some sort of acceptance via saving lives, and she’s not mad, honestly. But the hospital was and is always off limits: if it’s serious enough for medical care that Baymax can’t handle, things need to change. She can’t lose him too, and they know this.

“We’re sorry,” Wasabi murmurs, fingers twitching in his lap. “We never… Hiro contacted us when he was already there, we didn’t know. We barely had enough time to suit up.”

Fred is awfully quiet for once, though Cass can’t blame him. He looks as if he’s haunted.

“No more,” she states firmly. She can feel the events from today building in her throat, behind her eyes, the base of her skull. She wasn’t built for this. “Consider yourselves grounded for the next month.”

Wasabi breathes a sigh of relief and GoGo pops a piece of gum into her mouth and Cass thinks maybe, maybe this will be okay.

-

“I’m fine, Aunt Cass, really.”

“You are _not_ fine, young man, and you’re gonna sit there until I say it’s time for bed.”

“But—“

“No buts!” She places a bowl of popcorn drizzled with chocolate syrup beside Hiro and takes a seat on the couch, the cushion dipping under her weight. Hiro, for his part, looks mostly intact; there’s a nasty cut on his forehead, just under his fringe, and his legs have been wrapped and cleaned three times already, but he still looks so _small_. Cass flicks the television on, finds _Aladdin_ playing on a channel, and pulls Mochi into her lap. “Your homework can wait an extra day. I already checked with Honey and nothing is due this week.”

The night in the hospital is unspoken between them, an elephant they won’t ever acknowledge. Hiro pouts a bit, lower lip sticking out, and Cass hopes to someone out there that he’s learned even a hint of the lesson she’s been trying to teach him for so long.

When it’s clear Hiro won’t talk to her, she turns down the volume and says, “I don’t want to see you in a hospital bed, Hiro. You scared me.”

“I know,” he answers quietly, voice wavering barely. She catches it because she’s raised this boy since he was old enough to walk. “And I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I didn’t think there would be a fire.”

They told her, of course. That the reason they nearly failed was because the explosion went off and Hiro panicked; if not for Baymax, a concussion would be the least of their worries. It’s not fair, it’ll never be fair, and she runs her fingers through Hiro’s mess of hair.

“You can talk to me.” He laughs a bit, a sad smile that shows the gap in his teeth. “Don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding the kitchen, or working in the dark when the power goes out.”

She wants to say, _it’s nothing to be ashamed of_ , wants to assure him that it’s completely normal to be afraid of the thing that haunts him at least twice a week, but they both know that once it’s out there, they can’t take it back. Hiro is too smart for his own good sometimes, and she just wants to see him live a long and healthy life, a _happy_ life, the one he should never have had to live without his brother.

“Okay,” he says eventually, hands fisted in his lap. There’s a frown trying to twist his lips and he doesn’t look up. “I’m not afraid. I’m okay, really, sometimes it’s just—it doesn’t feel real, I guess.”

She’ll never forgive Callaghan.

-

It quiets down after that.

Hiro doesn’t sleep much at night, but she finds him sprawled on the living room floor with Mochi on his back at three in the afternoon on a Saturday, a snoring mess of exhaustion and ink-stains between his fingers. She vaguely recalls the reminder on the fridge that the gang is coming over for dinner tonight to study and watch the entire collection of Harry Potter movies Cass picked up last week, but she doesn’t have the heart to wake him up yet, instead letting him get some much needed rest, even if he _is_ blocking the entire section before the couch.

She pops in a lasagna, washes down the counters, closes up the café when four o’clock hits. Hiro has barely stirred, merely rolled over once only to smack his head off the corner of the sofa; he grumbled, but when Cass tiptoed over to see if he had woken up, he went right back to snoring away.

“At least you’re sleeping,” she murmurs, taking the lasagna out of the oven and peeling back the covering. It smells delicious, one of Hiro’s favourites, and she sets it delicately on the stove; Mochi begins to purr, a soft sound that alerts Cass to the fat cat rubbing against her legs, but Hiro has only shifted so he’s sleeping on his back as opposed to his stomach.

She thinks about calling Honey, postponing until tomorrow, but she decides against it.

With a sigh, she goes to turn the oven off, grazing her elbow on the hot pan in the process. With a startled, “ _Ow,_ dang it,” she grabs a cool cloth and—

“I heard a sound of distress. Are you well?”

Cass doesn’t scream. She jumps, nearly hits her head off the cupboard above the sink, but she doesn’t _scream_.

“ _What_ —when did Hiro put your station down here?” she asks, completely ignoring his question. Baymax tilts his head and waddles forward, pausing when he spots the sleeping Hiro.

“At two p.m.,” he states factually. Cass will never cease to be amazed at this creation. “Hiro did so in the event that you accidentally stepped on him.”

“So him sleeping on the floor was a… conscious decision?”

“Yes.” He holds up a vinyl finger, blinks a few times. “He was unable to do so in his own room.”

“I… see.” Cass gently removes the cloth from her elbow and places it in the sink, gesturing for Baymax to silently cross the room. He does so, only squeaking once or twice, and proceeds to scan her and look after the slight burn; nothing too serious, but she _likes_ seeing Baymax in action, a reminder that her nephews are—were— _are_ absolutely amazing in every way.

“Hiro is waking,” Baymax notes after he’s finished, turning to look at his charge. “My scan detects that his neurotransmitter levels are high. He is happy.”

“That’s,” she begins, feeling her chest constrict, a little less with pain and more with gratitude. “Thank you, Baymax.”

There’s a bittersweet moment of silence until:

“I recommend changing his bandages upon consciousness,” he adds, and Cass snorts, immediately bending down to dig through the bottom drawer for the first aid kit.

-

“Ow, ow, _ow_ , careful!”

“I’m going as slow as I can, honey,” Cass says patiently, her fingers sure and steady as she clutches the corner of the worn bandage. “But like I tell you every time, this would be much easier if you’d allow me to go a bit faster.”

“You’ll rip it open!”

“Negative,” Baymax interjects. He’s sitting awkwardly on the sofa after being told not to help, simply because Hiro knows Cass prefers to do it herself, a sense of reassurance that Hiro is fine, he’s still in one piece, and that there’s nothing to fret over. Except there is, because the burns are taking too long to heal, and Cass can only handle so much Hiro-sass before she snaps. “The rate you are allowing the bandage to be pulled is high on your pain threshold. A slightly faster speed will ensure the least amount of pain and damage to the wound itself.”

“See?” Cass cocks her head towards the robot, eyebrow raised: a dare to argue the logic of a bot designed specifically to help care for injuries.

“…Fine,” he amends, running his hand through the back of his hair. Cass smiles gently, coaxing a mimicked grin in return as she settles into her task of tending to his legs.

They work in silence, with the occasional input from Baymax about something or other, Hiro striking up a short conversation each time; he leans against him for support and Baymax assures him that his legs will be healed completely in approximately three weeks with minimal scarring. It’s a shot of straight relief to Cass who can’t bear the thought of Hiro having to see the reminder of something so awful on his skin, thinks it would be more detrimental than anything, and though she believes in the idea of scars, this is something different. Hurts a bit more, an invisible sort of pain that spreads like venom through each of them.

There’s a knock on the door just as Cass finishes his leg and she packs the gauze and cream up, sets him on his way to greet his friends, and catches Baymax’s eye.

“He’ll be alright?” It comes out as more of a question, but Baymax understands. It’s incredible, terrifying, amazing.

“I believe prolonged exposure to family and friends will continue to assist in his recovery,” Baymax says simply, that tilt to his head signifying his coded thought process. “He is happiest when surrounded by people he loves.”

Cass’s smile is watery, arms crossed over her chest as if it’ll hold herself together. She’s not sad, not really.

“Thank you so much, Baymax,” she says sincerely.

-

“This lasagna is _delicious_ ,” Fred declares, shoving another mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “Like, seriously the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted. What’s your recipe, Aunt Cass?”

“Secret,” she sing-songs, tossing a wink at Hiro. He snorts into his own fork and kicks his feet under the table. “One day the recipe will be passed down to boy genius, if he ever learns to cook.”

“I can bake,” he mumbles, shoving another forkful of lasagna in his mouth. Honey and Fred share a _look_ , but GoGo’s foot connects with Fred’s leg and it’s gone in a moment. She’ll have to ask later. “Anyway, are we actually studying tonight? It’s just the biochem test tomorrow and I’ve been ready for that for _months_.”

 “So if I were to quiz you right now—“

“But _Harry Potter,_ GoGo, which is more important?”

“Probably your education, but that’s just a guess.”

“It’s one of my best classes,” Hiro lies, waving his fork at GoGo like she’s personally insulted his very being. “Besides, we haven’t had a movie marathon since last month.”

“We had one last week,” Wasabi points out helpfully, standing up to collect the emptied plates around the table. “Remember? Watched the entire Lord of the Rings collection. I don’t think any of us slept that night.”

Cass chuckles, thanking Wasabi when he reaches her plate; she’s incredibly grateful for nights like these, being able to see Hiro comfortable and at ease, like he’s fourteen without the weight of the world a burden on his shoulders. At peace, she thinks, leaning back in her chair to watch them chat amongst themselves.

“I say we do a complete Marvel marathon,” Fred interjects, slapping his hand on the table. “Superhero movies, very fitting.”

“We already _did_ that,” Hiro says, pushing away from the table to go and fetch the plate of fresh chocolate truffles on the counter. “Two months ago.”

“We also already did Harry Potter,” Wasabi reminds them, to which Hiro furrows his brow. Cass knows where this is headed, sees it in the recognition in Hiro’s eyes and the regret forming on Wasabi’s tongue. It’s not his fault, but old wounds are often too easily opened.

“Hiro—“

“I remember that,” Hiro says quietly, gently setting the plate on the table. Cass watches him carefully and Honey looks prepared for whatever way this may go. He’s not a ticking time bomb, Cass understands that, but he’s—struggling. “Because Tadashi and I went as wizards that Hallowe’en.”

“You guys looked like nerds,” GoGo says, nudging Honey in the side. “Pretty sure we still have photographic evidence of that nightmare.”

“They did make them in one night,” Cass adds, offering Hiro a shared smile. “The wands were especially well made. Only broke one vase that year.”

There’s a _meow_ from somewhere in the corner and Hiro says, “Mochi wouldn’t go near Tadashi for a whole week,” earning a startled laugh out of the group.

“Dude, you should have seen him in the lab!” Fred cries, a bunch of nods punctuating the statement. “He nearly blew up the _entire area_. My mascot suit was never the same.”

“I think he was trying to turn the wand into a sentient being,” Honey murmurs, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Cass fully believes it. “He was very intense that night. We had to remind him to go home and sleep so he could take you trick-or-treating the next day.”

“We don’t go trick-or-treating!” Hiro shouts, embarrassed. It’s GoGo’s turn to snort, lightly slapping Hiro on the arm. “We _didn’t_. We just acquired candy in a very mature and respectable manner and then spent the rest of the night watching gory movies. Aunt Cass always gave us the leftover éclairs.”

“They were so good,” Cass reminisces, wiping away a stray tear. Hiro’s smile is timid and nostalgic. “You guys always fell asleep on the couch and wouldn’t get up before noon.”

“Photographic evidence?” GoGo asks, and Cass nods.

“Oh yes, definitely. I have an entire album dedicated to them being absolutely _adorable_. Did you know Hiro used to sleep on Tadashi? Wouldn’t go to bed without him, every single night. Poor boy had to study with a four-year-old napping in his lap.”

“ _Aunt Cass_.” Hiro looks betrayed, cheeks red and flushed. Completely worth it. “C’mon!”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about!” Cass assures, pushing her chair back and standing up with a quiet _pop_ of her spine. “Glued at the hip, you two. He was the only one who could get you to stay still for more than two minutes.”

Maybe it’s too far, the reminiscing, but Hiro doesn’t look ready to bolt and the others are all smiling like the wound doesn’t ache quite as much as it used to. It hasn’t been that long since Hiro had holed himself up in his room in the darkest time of his depression, yet with them laughing and talking about Tadashi as a memory and not as a ghost, it reminds her that it’s possible to heal; it hurts, as it always will, that dull stab of pain in her gut every time she walks by their once-shared bedroom, or when she puts out an extra plate at breakfast without thinking. He’s on the walls and lives in Hiro’s greatest innovation—Cass will always, always miss him. Parents shouldn’t outlive their children. Brothers shouldn’t be lonely. Hiro’s grief is sometimes tangible.

“Harry Potter first,” GoGo declares suddenly, reaching forward to mess up Hiro’s hair. “I expect at least a ninety on that test tomorrow, kid.”

“Duh.” Hiro rolls his eyes, swats her hand away, but there’s a softness to the gesture. “Ten bucks that Wasabi will be the first to break.”

“Deal. Which one?”

“Goblet, definitely. He has a soft spot for Cedric.”

“Hm… I’ll stick with Phoenix then. Ten bucks it is.”

Wasabi frowns, Fred lightly patting his arm for support. “I haven’t cried at Harry Potter for years.”

“True,” Hiro ponders, crossing his arms. “Fred was the one who sobbed at the end of the third Iron Man.”

“Not fair, little dude,” Fred says, shaking his head. “That ending was atrocious. Totally not accurate, even for the movie-verse.”

-

Surprisingly, GoGo and Cass are the first to break. Honey collects that night.

-

“I got perfect,” Hiro says, and Cass hugs him as tightly as possible without hurting him. He has the paper clutched between his fingers, eyes bright and excited and Cass is so damn _proud._ “Does that mean éclairs for dessert?”

She smiles.

“Anything you want, honey.”

-

Out of all of them, Baymax is probably the only one who constantly remembers that Hiro is still just a child. A teenager, sort of, in that he’s hitting puberty as Baymax supplies whenever Cass rants to him after their more louder arguments, but also a child, prodigy or not.

So when she comes home one night to find him cuddled up to his robotic best friend, a bowl of popcorn in his hands and drying tear tracks on his cheeks, she’s struck with the reminder that he’s growing up too fast for her to keep up. He’s not lonely anymore, not really, with Baymax by his side or in reaching distance, yet there’s something missing. Always something missing.

She sets the brown paper bags on the counter and tries not to startle her nephew, but Hiro jumps and turns around as soon as she does so, a guilty look in his eyes that she’s not supposed to see.

“You’re home early,” he says, dumbfounded. He looks like a deer caught in headlights; she’s not sure how to tell him she’s not afraid of his grief. “I—we were just… movies. Watching.”

“It’s alright,” Cass offers, resting her elbows beside the bags. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” A nod, a stuttering gaze. She wants so badly to wrap him up in a blanket and hide him away for a bit. “Yeah, totally fine. What’d you buy?”

She digs through one of the bags until she stumbles upon the plastic bag full of gummies, tossing them towards Hiro with a grin.

“Special treat. Don’t eat them all in one sitting, ‘kay?”

The effect is immediate: his face lights up and Baymax pets him gently on his head, says, “You are much more relaxed now, Hiro.”

“Free gummy bears,” he says distractedly, ripping the bag open with his teeth. “Very effective for my emotional well-being.”

“I shall keep that noted.”

Cass shakes her head, goes to put the groceries away, when Hiro clears his throat and catches her attention.

“Aunt Cass,” he begins, and she’s hyperaware of the suit in the garage and the robot sitting beside him and chemicals, the laser-swords and magnetic discs and the fire, she’s _afraid_. There’s no parenting handbook for caretakers of a superhero. Hiro never wanted to tell her; she understands why, absolutely, but it’d hurt more not knowing at all. “It’s been a few weeks—“

“I said a month at the very least,” she cuts in, turning around and bracing herself on the counter digging needlepoints in her lower back. “No compromises on that. I need to know that you’re… that you’re going to be able to handle it, Hiro. That’s the bottom line.”

“But—“

“How’s your head?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in defiance. He rolls his eyes, clutches the bag of gummies in his hand as a lifeline. For the first time in months, there’s old fire burning beneath the surface. “Or, I don’t know, your legs? Hiro, your _suit_ doesn’t even… You’re a modern day Achilles honey, I can’t let you go in good conscience.”

That stumps him. If not for the gravity of the situation weighing like rocks in her blood, she’d laugh. Instead, she merely sighs and makes her way over, taking a seat with a heavy heart and the urge to bake herself a slice of oblivion.

“You know the story of Achilles,” she starts, and Hiro nods, a confused furrow to his brow that she hasn’t seen since he was seven and trying to rebuild their Nintendo 64 with Tadashi slowly giving instructions off to the side. “You know why they call a weakness your Achilles’ heel. I’ve seen your suit, I’ve seen the damage done.” She taps above his knee, the white gauze shifting when he fidgets.

“Oh,” he murmurs, kicking the edge of the couch with a determined frown. “I—okay, fine, minor setback.”

She nods. “Two more weeks and we’ll discuss it then. All of us, alright? I know you want to keep me out—“

“I don’t want you to get _hurt_.”

“—but I’m not gonna let my nephew run into danger in misplaced grief. It’s my job to protect to you.”

“I don’t _need_ to be protected,” he half-whines, something like desperation in his voice. Cass breathes slowly through her nose, hesitates before placing a cautious hand on his arm. He doesn’t shake her off and that’s one point for her. “I want to help people.”

“I know.”

“Then—“

“Tadashi did too,” Cass murmurs. There’s a pang of fresh guilt and sadness in her own chest, doesn’t look to see the same thing reflected back at her. “Honey, that’s exactly what he wanted to do, and he _did_. I’m so, so proud of him. But I can’t… If it happens to you too, Hiro, what then? You’re not invincible. Tadashi wasn’t invincible.”

“That’s not fair,” Hiro whispers, shrinking back into the body behind him. Baymax makes a sound of agreement, a strange _whirr_ that echoes the nights Tadashi spent working himself to sacrifice, and says, “She is right, Hiro. It is a dangerous job.”

It’s a tactic, one she hates using, one that will crawl in her veins the moment she tries to sleep tonight but she needs him to _understand_ so badly, to grasp what it is he’s trying to accomplish and what will become of him if he lets his grief consume him. Hiro won’t talk and Cass can’t pry and the only mediator between them is six feet under and awfully, terribly silent.

“I’m sorry,” Cass says with finality, withdrawing her hand and giving Hiro some space. She imagines the black dress and the rain a broken rhythm on a coffin and the sound of hollow emptiness in their apartment and she can’t bear it. “But that’s all I’m saying on this matter until the end of the month. Are we clear?”

He looks ready to argue, pain itching to curl off his tongue, but he swallows it and nods stiffly.

“Fine.”

She knows she’s lost.

-

“Hiro,” someone says, poking him in the ribs, and he swats the hand away in annoyance. “We are approaching our stop, Hiro.”

“Mnehh,” he mumbles, cuddling tighter in the warmth of his sweater. There’s another soft jab to his ribs, a hand in his hair, and he grins tiredly. “Time?”

“Approximately two minutes until we arrive,” Baymax states. Hiro yawns, stretches his arms above his head, feels his spine crack in protest at the awkward positioning of the last twenty minutes. “Are you well?”

“Fine, Baymax,” he mumbles distractedly, glancing out the window to see the rain has already started. So much for testing the upgraded thrusters, then. “Wasn’t it supposed to be _nice_ today?”

“The storm cell currently moving over San Fransokyo was predicted at eight o’clock this morning.”

“Lame,” he declares, reaching to press the stop button on the nearest pole; the resonating _ding_ sends a jolt of pain directly through the base of his skull, earning a grimace and a low-muttered curse.

“My scan indicates that you are experiencing the beginning of a migraine,” Baymax tells him, standing to follow Hiro slowly off the bus once it reaches their stop. The café is just down the street, but it seems miles away in the crappy weather, so he tugs his hood tighter over his head and braves the wind.

“Hiro,” Baymax tries, the sound of the rain hitting his vinyl body a strange noise amongst the wet-slicked tires sliding on the road. “I suggest extra sleep immediately before the pain can increase.”

“Can’t, chem assignment is due tomorrow and Honey is coming over later.”

“I will contact her to reschedule.”

Hiro shakes his head, regrets it immediately, knocks his hip into Baymax with a frown.

“Don’t do that,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He’s cold and tired and there’s too much to do and not enough time to do so, the next two weeks looking bleak and desolate. In theory, it should be fine; heavy workloads were never an issue for him before and it’s not about to be, but getting sick is the last thing he needs, and his body will just have to understand that. “I need her to look over some equations, make sure they’re accurate.”

“Is this for her suit?”

“Nope,” he answers sincerely, kicking a stray pebble off to the side. “School work. She’s gonna send me the specs for her updates next week so I can adjust them. Super lightweight, super safe, win-win for everyone.”

“You are working too hard. You haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

“I slept on the bus.”

“Do you feel refreshed?”

“Absolutely.”

“A lie,” and Hiro groans, ignores the throbbing setting up a steady baseline behind his eyes, the way his fingers twitch and ache with exhaustion. He doesn’t want to worry anyone, has done enough of that in the last few months, but trying to convey this to Baymax is like trying to convince Tadashi not to tell Aunt Cass Hiro accidentally lit his favourite pair of shoes on fire: it simply doesn’t work.

“I’ll be fine,” he soothes, pausing when they reach the entrance to the café. He can see Aunt Cass smiling behind the counter, a smudge of flour on her nose and hair tucked behind her ear. “Hey, just don’t tell her, okay? I promise I’ll get some sleep right after Honey leaves. Cross my heart.”

“An expression?”

“An expression.”

Baymax seems satisfied with that answer—as satisfied as a sentient robot with adaptive coding can, anyway—and nudges him towards the door.

“The rain is detrimental to your physical well-being,” he explains. “Your clothes are also very wet.”

Unbelievable, Hiro thinks. He laughs and drags his soaking self into the café.

-

“These are great, Hiro. It looks like you got them all.”

“No mistakes?”

“Nope,” Honey assures with a smile, unfolding her legs from their crossed position to stretch out. Hiro lets out a quiet _whoop_ and falls backwards, reaching blindly for the bag of gummies sitting on his nightstand as Honey reorganizes the papers scrawled with messy explanations and clear equations. They both know it’s no surprise, but she likes to help and Hiro likes the company. “How long did it take you?”

“About… an hour? Maybe,” he offers with a one-shoulder shrug. “I remember Aunt Cass bringing up some fries at some point…”

Honey laughs. “That’s better than most first years,” she tells him, placing his assignment on Hiro’s bed and leaning down to peck his cheek.

It’s not often he studies up here or lets them in; he prefers the garage, where GoGo and Fred will help him test new upgrades and offer a second pair of eyes for coding errors, basking in the space of the driveway to avoid causing any unnecessary destruction. When it comes to Honey and Wasabi though, it’s either the café or the living room, quiet and neat with less distractions, but Hiro isn’t up for the worry-stress that’s been bleeding from the walls for the last few days. If Honey’s curious, she doesn’t ask.

“Hey,” he starts, biting his lower lip as he sits up, resting his back against the edge of his bed. Honey gives her full attention and Hiro takes a deep breath, fiddles with the string of his hoodie. “I know we’re not supposed to go out, but uh, I—well, Baymax—picked up some activity downtown. Probably nothing big or dangerous, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

“I don’t think so,” she murmurs with a slight shake of her head. She seems to mull it over at least, so maybe they aren’t completely out of the rescue field. “You look tired, Hiro. Baymax told me you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Traitor,” Hiro says at the same time Baymax perks up with a, “His stress levels are extremely high as well.”

Honey manages to hide her bemused laugh, but straightens up when Hiro shows no signs of backing down.

“You need to sleep,” she says, continuing even though Hiro is giving her the betrayed pout that he’s learned to master. “I’m serious, Hiro. I don’t think we should be defying your aunt’s trust like that.”

“I know she means well,” he grits out, dropping his head in his hands and scrubbing at his scalp in frustration. “I _do_ , I just feel like there’s so much we could be _doing_ right now, but I’m grounded. Grounded! I’m almost fifteen, how can she even ground me?”

“Because she wants you safe, dummy.”

“She never grounded me when I went bot fighting. Not seriously, anyway.”

Honey drops an arm around his shoulders, pulls him tightly against her side. “She has her reasons, I’m sure. I think you should just a good night’s sleep and we can bring it up to the others tomorrow, yeah?”

“Ugh,” he articulates, his head finding the soft spot on her shoulder, where the cotton of her shirt gives way to the fleece of her yellow sweater. She always smells like lilacs and peach, bright scents that remind him of summer and, strangely, home. “ _Ugh_ , fine, but we’re doing your upgrades tomorrow then. I wanna test if the increased elasticity of your strap will actually hold.”

“It came from that big head of yours,” she laughs, hugging him firmly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” he hums, relaxing and closing his eyes. “Chemical reactions can be really weird.”

“Sleep,” Honey murmurs, tracing gentle patterns in his hair. Hiro nods belatedly, small and exhausted, and she’s struck with just how much of his brother he embodies, the insomniac nights and the way his stress clings to the curve of his spine, the endless determination like sparks in the early hours of the morning.

It doesn’t hurt as much as she expects.

-

“Three guesses as to what today is!” Cass calls as soon as Hiro makes his way downstairs, the early afternoon sun too bright for him to deal with so soon. Cass ruffles his hair and steers him towards the couch, letting him get himself comfortable and directing Baymax to do the same.

“Aunt Cass,” Hiro starts, before he’s abruptly cut off by a yawn. It seems to take him by surprise; he blinks a few times, rubs his eyes, and tries again. Cass does _not_ coo. “Aunt Cass, what time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.” She smiles, clapping her hands together. There’s a faint smell of French toast and pancakes wafting through the air, and she’s glad when it begins to perk him up enough to focus. “It’s okay, you didn’t miss anything important. How do you feel?”

“That’s Baymax’s line,” he teases, wrinkling his nose. The aforementioned robot blinks and looks to Cass for clarification, but Hiro continues. “What’s today?”

She knows he’s dodging the question, decides to push it later when he’s a bit more coherent and doesn’t look quite so much like a zombie. Instead, she points to his legs, hidden by his pajamas, and recognition dawns on him almost immediately.

“Really? Today?”

“That’s right,” she says excitedly, plopping herself on the floor in front of Hiro and urging him back. He complies easily, rolling up his pant legs with sleep-shaken hands, his back against Baymax for support. It’s been fine—the burns have healed nicely, minimal scarring thus far, and Baymax has overlooked every bandage change and given comfortable input to keep Hiro’s mind off the way his skin is so easily torn. The moment of truth is when Cass gently peels the bandage on his right leg off and the only proof of damage is a slight pink tint to the area that Baymax assures him will fade with time. His left leg is a bit worse for the wear, a darker, angrier pink that’s already beginning to recede, and Hiro kicks his legs experimentally to test the water.

“Awesome.” He grins, satisfied, and she stands to kiss his forehead and dispose of the last of the bandages. He follows her into the kitchen where a plate of breakfast-turned-lunch sits on the table, still warm and waiting, and he hugs her around the waist and buries his face in her shirt. “Thanks, Aunt Cass.”

“Any time, sweetie,” she hums, giving his hair one last tussle for good measure before sending him off to eat. “I have to get back downstairs, but take it easy today, alright? Take-out tonight sound good?”

“Sounds great.” He offers her a rare smile that reaches his eyes, soft and alive and _real_ and she could cry, prays that it won’t be the last as Baymax says, “The extra hours of sleep have proven to be very beneficial to you, Hiro.”

“I love you,” she reminds him as she descends down the stairs, the quiet buzz of the crowd urging her forward. “Both of you.”

The smile doesn’t fade and he waves, calls out, “Love you too! Save me some éclairs!” and it’s fine, for the first time in months, everything is going to be _fine_.

-

They talk about it, the suit and the saving-people-business, and though Cass will never stop dreading each time he leaves, she gets it—Hiro is not Tadashi, won’t jump into danger alone, not as long as she’s around to nag him and guide him as best she can, not as long as they keep him under their wing to protect him. It goes against every bone in her body.

So he shows her the schematics for Fred’s suit, teaches her how the chemical purse works, how Baymax’s armour molds to Hiro’s to keep him steady in the air and is designed specifically for his tiny frame, a lesson in absolute trust. It’s amazing, she thinks, how Tadashi’s greatest invention is what’s keeping him safe now when Tadashi can’t, when Cass isn’t able to shield him from the outside world he thrusts himself in.

She wants what’s best for Hiro, wants him to be happy, thinks about her sister and the late night discussions about guardianship _just in case_ , thinks about Tadashi and the first year _after_ when he wouldn’t let Hiro out of his sight, when they were small and fragile and trains on two feet that sought out adventure in the washing machines and laundry hampers. The bumps and scrapes she got to kiss better and how motherhood was never for her until she walked into a hospital at four in the morning and inherited two small, scared children.

“He would be so proud of you,” Cass says eventually, swinging his chair around to face her. He’s chewing his bottom lip, eyes wide and searching. “So, so proud, Hiro. I promise you.”

“Oh.” Hiro looks away, twists his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I… you think so?”

She laughs, watery and desperate and happy, when Baymax waddles over and confirms with, “Tadashi has always been proud of you.”

-

He’ll be okay.

Cass swears it, takes a deep breath, and thinks:

_We will be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> [♥](http://arbhorwitch.tumblr.com)


End file.
